


Trust

by omi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 06:53:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omi/pseuds/omi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek needs to know if Stiles knew about Scott and Gerard. Needs to so much that he finds himself outside the boys house at who knows what hour, staring at it as if it'd give him the answers instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that came to me after I watched the latest episode. How sometimes it's the smallest gesture or that tiny piece of knowing that can make or break you. Hope you enjoy! Now back to writing.

Derek clenched his fist over his stomach as he walked out of the police station. He'd make sure that Sheriff Stilinski knew how to get in touch with him before getting the hell out of there. Too much blood had been spilled and he had the stuff already on his hands, it wouldn't do top for him to be there.

He had no idea how the incident was going to be spun to protect the innocents that were still alive. Or who would get the blame. He exhaled a bit relieved that this time he could leave the clean up in someone else's hands. The sheriff would protect his son and Scott and that meant keeping Derek alive, for now.

For now was all he needed. Right now was all he could function in. Because if he started thinking, the future was...

His hand tightened and he pressed it harder against his stomach, breathing hard. He just needed to get to his car and then back to the home.

No, not back home, Derek wanted to vomit at the thought of calling that place home. That cold, damp place was a piss poor lair at best. Just the kind of place a piss poor alpha would make his teenage pack live in. Good thing they couldn't get tetinitus.

Being in the car didn't make the cramping in his stomach lessen any. The leather covered steel wheel in his hands creaked as he drove on the calm night streets.

Derek was slamming the gears into park before he realized it; the time it took to arrive seemed short. Nothing had felt real all night, more like a nightmare.

He walked through the entrance way, vaguely noticing the presence of his three teenage pups. They were all silent, sitting on a couch that Isaac had brought there. They knew something was off, but not what. "Get out, go home for the night."

Boyd and Erica stood and made to leave while Isaac sat there his eyes wide and glistening as if he'd just kicked him in the face.

He sat on the edge of the subway door stiffly; his muscles tense "Isaac, that's not what I meant. Go lay down, rest." Derek could use rest himself. His head was pounding; he didn't understand why whatever was injured hadn't healed already. He brought his hand up and covered his eyes.

"What happened tonight?" Erica asked, her voice soft as she stood next to Boyd, holding on to him for support.

Derek's opened his mouth, lips sticking together. He moistened them and shook his head. "We'll talk tomorrow. Just," his voice lowered, "please go home tonight and be safe."

Be safe, my children for there are monsters in the night out to hunt us. His mother's voice came to him then, he could have wept that this was something that reminded him of her. Derek lowered his hand, squeezing his knee to hide the shaking of his hands.

Erica and Boyd left together, while Isaac came closer to Derek. "Do you need help getting cleaned up?" The sneer that had been a permanent resident on his face was wiped off, replaced by something softer, more human.

"No, go ahead and turn in for the night." Maybe it'd been a mistake, turning him and the others.

Mistakes. That'd been the theme of his life since he was sixteen. And even years later it didn't seem like something he was going to grow out of.

Mistakes like thinking that Scott had come to them, to him willingly. To be his brother in arms. Mistakes like turning three teenagers at same time and hoping that they'd behave because they'd be at the least grateful.

"You're not trusting the one person you should."

Deaton's words came back, haunting him. He had for a small time thought that maybe things would be different now. That he was allowed to start having someone with him, at his back, who he could count on when times got difficult.

But Scott couldn't manage that. Didn't he think for one moment that Derek would be able to understand? Hadn't Derek gone through enough to prove to this teenager that he understood the value of family?

His throat thigh tightened, liquid thick in his sinuses while dark lashes blinked furiously, trying to hold back tears. How many more times was he to feel this helpless and alone?

A cold drop from above onto his head distracted Derek from his thoughts.

The last time he'd been truly helpless had been those few hours in the pool, with only a frail, spastic human boy as his lifeline. And Stiles had let him go, once. Sinking, Derek thought it might be fitting that his whole world had been destroyed by fire while his life be taken by water.

But Stiles had dove down for him, had come back. Derek tilted his head, Stiles had his back.

Stiffly standing, he paused, waiting for the wolf to heal his knee that he'd broken as he tried to control himself.

Stiles, that's not his first name Stilinski. Who wouldn't stop questioning him about all things were and all things supernatural. Questions until he wanted to pound his head on the door. Of the boys room where he'd go if he needed help.

Not just once or twice had he gone to Stiles.

He needed to go to Stiles now. He needed to know if Stiles knew and had agreed to all of this. He didn't think so, but he needed to know. Derek started to walk determinedly to the exit.

"Derek?" Isaac called out.

"I'll be back, just stay here for now." Derek left, walking to the kid's house. He couldn't risk driving right now; he'd have to walk there.

One foot in front of the other, his heart pounding. His feet trying to move as fast as his heart and he found himself running. Running across streets that were empty of humanity, structures that should have been torn down, an urban forest decomposing.

Derek torn through the warehouse district that he'd taken up residence in until he reached the suburban sprawl. Oh cozy, cookie cutter houses that looked the same, except for a different color pain, or side paneling. Maybe a mailbox here or there or a few plants in a tiny garden.

Running, his breath steadier now that he'd found a small steady idea to pour himself into. Find Stiles, question Stiles. Derek could only run, hoping to outrun the ache in his chest and the pain in his stomach.

Time was playing with him again as he stopped running, standing still across the street from the Stilinski house.

It was dark, the shades pulled and all locked for the evening. Derek concentrated his hearing, focusing purely on the inhabitants of the house and found two heart beats. One beat was slow and steady, the Sheriffs. The other moved at a faster pace that he recognized as Stiles.

Derek waited. Waited for the sheriff to slip off into slumber after checking on Stiles, who Derek could tell was still awake, but faking sleep.

As the sheriff's heartbeat slowed even further, Derek made his move closer to the house. With a leap, he was outside of Stiles window.

Tapping it in a familiar rhythm, Derek found that the window was unlocked and slid open easily. Warmth pulsed in his chest at the thought that Stiles left it open for him.

Or Scott, but it was easier to think that tonight, the open window was for him.

"I thought you might come tonight." Stiles voice came from the bed and was low and raspy, something he'd never heard from the young boy before. It hit him like a punch to the face.

The question stuck in Derek's throat. Did he know? Was he a part of it? The tiny, hidden question lingered in the depths of Derek's mind, did Stiles trust him?

"Derek." Stiles rolled over in his bed. "Derek?"

He shuffled closer to the bed, until he could see Stiles face in the dark. The boy laid on his back, his eyes closed, seemly asleep, except for his the beat of his heart.

"My dad didn't know what to do, so in the end, we did nothing. He wiped the security tapes before setting fire to the security room. We watched as it burned nice and hot, then he turned called Tom Kolmes from day shift and the mayor. As he waited for them to show he started wiping down different areas of prints. The mayor called the higher ups who then showed up and started questioning him. He got home not too much before you got here." Stiles put his arm over his eyes, hiding them in his elbow, "but I was sent home long before that, along with Scott his mom. Once again, my father cleaning up my mess."

Derek pretended not to see the tears that had rolled down Stiles face. "My mess you mean. Jackson is and was my fault and therefore my problem."

He moved until his legs hit the edge of the bed, "I need to know if you knew. If you were in on it." His whole world narrowed in on Stiles, on what the boy would say and do next. He felt that this could somehow break him.

"Knew what?" His arm moved and he stared into the darkness as if he could see Derek.

"Knew that Scott was in league with Gerard." The words burned coming out and filled the air with ash.

Stiles started to laugh, until tears streamed down his face and the laughed turned into soft sobs. The boy curled up into himself, muffling the sounds into his blankets.

Derek heard the truth in his pain. Stiles didn't know. Scott had left even him out in the dark. Derek bent, his back cracking in the process and unlaced his boots, then pulled them off. He set them stiffly to the side of computer and then pulled his jeans off, laying them across the computer chair.

The gingerly, because he wasn't afraid, wasn't lying to himself about that, he climbed into bed with the only person he felt that he could trust in the world. Stiles didn't protest as Derek curled around him, tugging and pulling until they were entwined on Stiles mattress.

It was one hand. One simple touch that broke Derek.

Stiles reached his hand out and wrapped it around one of Derek's. That released a flood of endorphins, Derek's headache disappeared, the ache in his stomach, gone. His back relaxed and the tears came. He turned into Stiles neck to muffle his cries.

They didn't last long.

"Stay."

Derek nodded. "I'll be gone before your father gets up in the morning." He tried to move closer in any way he could, clinging to Stiles like he knows he once clung to his family.

"No," Stiles turned, his head rubbing against Derek's. "You'll stay and then we'll talk about everything over breakfast with my dad. Does he know that you know?"

"No, I overheard them at the station and they were a little preoccupied."

"Okay then, good." Stiles moved the covers around them, tucking them both in for the night.

"Good?" Derek laughed bitterly, "I don't see how any of this is good."

"We're finally one step ahead. Maybe more after we talk tomorrow, who knows? Right now, let's just...get some sleep." Stiles yawned right after, his body relaxing into Derek's.

Derek just closed his eyes and held onto Stiles, basking in the boys hope and trust, feeling a little at peace.


End file.
